Burn
by LilyIsAwesomerThanYou
Summary: It's been seven years since the Final Battle, since Lucius was sent to Azkaban for his service to the Dark Lord. Draco finally pays him a visit to get his feelings about his childhood off his chest.


**Getting my feelings out after a not-so-great weekend. I'm usually a fan of the Malfoys, but it just fit with what I'm feeling right now soooo**

**There's a bit of swearing in here too. Not too much, just a few words.**

**Slight Dramione. Able to be overlooked if you want, though.**

**Also, can be seen as a companion fic to my previous story, Saving Draco Malfoy. (as pointed out by the lovely mandancie)**

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Burn

Draco pushed his blond hair out of his eyes as he strolled purposefully across the rocky shore. The sea was tempestuous and the wind was fierce, biting at his nose and whipping his robes behind him. The waves crashed against the rocks, throwing sea mist into the air that clung to his body and stung his eyes. He wiped a hand across the face and swiped his tongue across his lips. He could taste the salt in the air.

The closer he got to the tall, looming stone walls, the more he fought to keep from shivering. Dark thoughts tore at the edges of his mind, but he pushed them away with harsh ferocity, refusing to give them any leverage in his mind. He would not let them in, would not let them distract him from his intended mission.

Several Dementors floated along at his sides, likely the source of the thoughts. Whether the creatures were there to lead him or monitor him, Draco was not sure.

As they neared the gates of the tower, the door opened automatically. Draco stepped inside and halted. A long, piercing wail met his ears and this time, he could not keep from shuddering.

So this was Azkaban. The infamous prison.

The Dementors knew what he was there for. Or rather, _who_. They led the way ominously, passing through several dark corridors lined with cells before leaving Draco in front of one.

The blond turned and looked at the heap of apparent rags on the floor of the cell. He set his feet and crossed his arms firmly before clearing his throat. The rags moved and blond hair emerged, followed by a sallow, haggard face. Grey eyes were sunken into the once-handsome face.

"Lucius." Draco's voice was cold, harsh. "Father."

"Draco," Lucius called, his voice hollow and shaky. "Draco, you've come. What do you want?"

"I'm here to tell you the truth." He laughed darkly before continuing. "I was going to write a letter, Father, but I figured you couldn't read it. You've been in here for seven years, after all. I wonder if this prison has corroded your brain as much as the Dark Lord did."

Lucius rose to his feet after a moment of tense silence. He approached the cell bars slowly, anger in his eyes. "How dare you. Watch your mouth, boy!"

"Or what?" Draco replied icily. "What will you do to me? What more can you do to me than you've already done?" Before Lucius could respond, he continued, "It's all your fault! Every thought that enters my mind, that makes me hate myself so much more than I thought I ever could – it's all your bloody fault!"

Lucius' pale, shaking hands grasped the bars tightly. "I raised you to be a respectable young man in this society! I taught you manners and etiquette! I taught you the truths of life! I raised you right!"

"You raised me _wrong!_" Draco snapped. "Pureblood this, Mudblood that. I was told that I was superior, but even you – my own father – never treated me like I was worth something. Do you know what I was to you? Your _slave._ _I _was forced to hate Harry Potter. I was forced to serve the Dark Lord. I was forced to spy on the school for you while you went to your beloved job every day and sweet-talked every goddamn Ministry worker into giving you exactly what you wanted! I was forced to be _you!_"

"You are a child! You do as I say! The world doesn't revolve around _you_, Draco!" Lucius bit out in response.

"You're right. It doesn't. But it doesn't revolve around you either, Father." Draco stepped back as Lucius pressed his face close to the bars in anger. When the older man opened his mouth to speak, Draco interrupted.

"Back to the subject at hand, _Father_. I am forced to be you. It doesn't help that every time I look in the mirror, I see your face staring back at me. Those cold, grey eyes. Those pointed, aristocratic features. I hate them. I hate you. I hate me. Merlin, do I hate us.

"And it goes beyond mere appearance. You fucking brainwashed me! I spent countless years of my life believing your rubbish about pureblood supremacy and the Dark Lord's sovereign ways. It took me until I was seventeen, broken-down, and stuck as a pawn in the Dark Lord's army to realize the error of my ways – of _your_ ways.

"You're surprisingly like the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord was never right, Father. He was cruel and merciless and an absolute _prick_. He tortured and terrified those he kept closest so they wouldn't dare turn from him. He killed Muggles for mere sport – they may not be wizards but they are _people_, Father!" Draco finished angrily, his breath coming out in huffs.

Lucius looked at him from behind the bars. "You are pathetic," he spat. "I raised you better than this."

"You didn't raise me at all! You were never even there for me! It wasn't you who taught me to brew my first potion – that was Uncle Severus! It wasn't you who taught me to ride a broom – that was Mother, and she doesn't even enjoy flying! You pounded all of these disgusting ideas into my tiny, moldable mind and left all the rest to everyone else! You were supposed to spend time with me! You were supposed to love me! _I was your son!_"

"You still are, Draco, and you will do as I say!"

"I will not!" Draco shouted. "I will not listen to you _ever!_ You disgust me, Father, and my children will never know you. You will never know your grandchildren, just as I wish that I had never known you."

Lucius looked furious. "What are you afraid of, Draco? That they will end up just like you? Regretful, broken, _pathetic? _Alone?" he hissed. "You will never find yourself a fitting wife. You will find a worthless woman who will settle for you because as much as she wishes to, she will _never_ find anyone better! You will live to do nothing but _disappoint_!"

Draco held up his left hand angrily and pushed it in his father's face. A gold ring glinted faintly in the dim light. "What's that, Father? Oh yes, that's a _wedding ring_. I am _happy_ with her, Father, happier than I have ever been. She is not worthless, nor am I pathetic or alone. _You_ are pathetic. _You_ are worthless. Oh, and look around, Father. _You are alone_."

Draco turned and walked angrily down the dark hallway, his boots thudding loudly and echoing off the walls. "And for the record, she's a Muggleborn!" he called behind him.

"You married a _Mudblood_?!" came Lucius' furious shout.

Draco stopped. "Oh yes, Father. But she is far from dirty. In fact, I'd reckon that she's cleaner than you – in mind, blood, _and_ hygiene, mind you. That is all I came here to say, old man. Good-bye, Father. You won't be seeing me again." He continued down the hallway before pausing again. "And just for good measure, fuck you."

He continued out the doors and to the Apparition point, where a certain bushy-haired witch was waiting for him. He took her arm gently and turned, apparating them back home.

Draco walked over to the mantle and picked up the picture of him and his father. He removed it carefully from the frame and dropped it into the blazing fire. And then he sat back and watched it burn, just like their relationship.

Burn, burn, burn.

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**Sorry if y'all like Lucius. I do too, but I needed to twist him a little (or a lot) for this story.**

**Review please. It makes me happy. :)**


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